


And the beauty of a woman, with passing years only grows

by myriddin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke, ten years later. "He touched her with the same gentle respect he had when she was nineteen and trembling at the thought of taking another lover, of risking her heart. Nothing about her was blemished in his eyes."This started from an idea of grumpy, sleepy Bellamy falling asleep with his glasses on, and it really just grew from there.





	

Clarke let out a sigh of tired relief as she closed the door behind her and reveled in the quiet calm enveloping her and Bellamy’s cabin. Stepping out of her shoes to giving her aching feet a rest and raising her arms in a full-body stretch, she felt the day’s tension slowly melt away as she began to soak in that calm. She puttered around the main room for a few minutes, putting her jacket and bag in their proper places lest Bellamy get after her for clutter again, contemplating whether to heat water for tea before deciding on retiring for the night instead.  

Stopping short in the doorway to their bedroom, she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter as she took in the sight before her. Even the romantic glow the oil lamp cast over him couldn't hide the absurdity of Bellamy's profile. He had fallen asleep propped up against the pillows, one leg dangling over the side of the bed, his mouth hanging open in silent snore. The Iliad was still open in one hand, while the other limb was tucked behind his head...a head that was slumped at an awkward angle, pressing his face into a pillow and endangering one of the most delicate things he owned.  

With an air of fond exasperation, she stepped over to her side of the bed. Their mutual trauma had taught them to keep a safe distance in case one of them startled out of their sleep, and certainly not to shake one another awake. Instead, she called his name firmly. "Bellamy. Bell, wake up." 

Thankfully, languidly rather than suddenly, Bellamy began to stir, mouth stretching into a yawn and back arching as he stretched. He raised his head, blinking a few times to clear his vision, and gave her a drowsy smile. "Hey." 

"Hey yourself." She slid onto the bed, leaning in to kiss him. Bellamy hummed contently into the contact as he sleepily responded. He felt so good, Clarke couldn’t help but linger, loving the way he felt- warm and flushed from sleep, the lines of his body relaxed and pliant, something so rare from her guarded lover. It would be so easy to let the passion stir between them, to press him back and tug the covers down, to slip her hand between them. He was always so wonderfully responsive like this, it wouldn’t take much to coax him to arousal and meld their bodies together into that slow, sweet alchemy they were so rarely allowed to indulge in. 

But there were things that needed discussing. Clarke teased her tongue against his, pulling away when he tried to deepen the contact with a graze of her teeth against his lower lip. He groaned with protest when she drew back, his eyes hazy as he opened them to meet her chiding look. "You fell asleep with your glasses on again, Bell. Those frames are delicate- you seriously need to take them off before you try smothering yourself in your pillow."

Bellamy, once he got over the incredulity of her stopping their kiss to reprimand him, rolled his eyes and grumbled, "I don't try to smother myself."

"Bell, you've woken me up more than once trying to steal my pillow so you could add it to whatever pile you're burrowed under."

"I was asleep."

"Doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"My glasses will be fine, Clarke, no matter how I sleep."

"Raven says if she tried to bend the frames back into place one more time, the metal will snap."

"Clarke..."

She gave into her earlier impulse, straddling his wait, looping her arm around his neck to keep her balance. "I need you healthy, Bell. You remember how bad your headaches got. Please just be more careful...for me?"

"Alright, Clarke. If it means that much to you." His big hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, moving up to span her waist, stroking the small of her back as his thumbs pressing to the little divots at the base of her spine. Clarke shivered under his touch, tugging her shirt up over her head and pressing close again to revel in the feeling of being skin-to-skin. 

Toying with the curls at his nape, she pulled back enough to study him. His beloved face was one she knew better than her own, marked by the life they'd shared. The deep furrows of his forehead were badges of uncertainty and pain but the lines around his mouth and eyes were if a kinder sort, left behind by laughter and joy. Though he was only thirty-three, his temples were touched with premature gray, a few of his thick curls showing hints of salt and pepper here and there among the black. 

Scars of several varieties marked his torso, much the same of her own, as she was reminded when calloused fingers traced the length of her spine, paying equal attention to jagged sections of scar tissue as he did to smooth skin. He touched her with the same gentle respect he had when she was nineteen and trembling at the thought of taking another lover, of risking her heart. Nothing about her was blemished in his eyes, certainly wouldn't be if she ended up with a few more marks on her body, albeit from a much kinder source...

Bellamy stole her attention away from her reflections with a brush of his lips to her neck and trailing down, respectful as always not to linger too long on the Trikru tattoo on the back of her shoulder.  “What’s on your mind, Clarke? I can tell there’s more going on that worrying about my glasses.”

Clarke sighed, tucking herself against him until her head was resting in the crook of his neck and Bellamy had wrapped his arms around her, stroking a hand up and down her back until she was ready to speak. “Harper brought Natalie into the clinic today.”

“Oh, yeah? Was everything okay?”

“Everything was alright. Just a cut on her foot that needed stitches.”

Bellamy chuckled. “I’m shocked that poor girl was allowed enough freedom to go near anything sharp, given how many overprotective dads she’s got hovering around.*” 

Clarke laughed as well. “And to think they were starting to ease off since Bryna and Tommy were born. Monty isn’t as bad as Nate and Bryan, but I wonder how it will go now.”

“That poor girl.”

Clarke smiled, nuzzling against his neck. “Seeing them today…it got me thinking. We’ve had peace for nearly seven years. Our people are healthy and happy. Families are growing all the time. Bell, I realized today that I feel safe. I’m safe, and not just that, I’m _happy_. You’ve always been so understanding when it came to my stance on kids…”

Bellamy nodded, giving her a reassuring nuzzle. Of course he had been disappointed, but he had understood Clarke’s fear of bringing a child into the brutal world they lived in, of not being able to be a good parent with the memory of blood on their hands. “Of course, Clarke. You know I’ll never push you for something you don’t want.”

“That’s just it, Bell,” She raised her head, meeting his eyes. “I do want it. If you want to try too, I want to have children with you.”

He blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he shook off his shock and smiled so widely he wasn’t sure how the grin fit on his face. “You mean it?”

“I do.” Her expression was open and tender, as she leaned in and kissed him softly. “I love you, Bellamy. I know I don’t tell you often enough, but I do.”

“It’s not the quantity, Princess, it’s the quality.” He kissed her again, deeper and more passionate than her own. “I love you, too.” He flipped them over, knocking off the bedclothes covering his lower half and revealing his naked state. Clarke squirmed beneath him, wriggling out of the rest of her clothing until she was as bare as he was. Bellamy waggled his eyebrows, pulling off as corny a leer as he could affect. “What do you say we get started on ‘trying’?”

Clarke huffed out a laugh, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her. “You’re lucky you’re gorgeous naked, because that was the worst seduction line I’ve ever heard.”

“Just focus on the beautiful babies we’re going to make, Griffin.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, arching toward him as Bellamy slipped a hand between their bodies. “We really will.”

**Author's Note:**

> *My love for Minty was evolving to a Miller/Monty/Bryan situation when Monty hooked up with Harper. So my headcanons expanded further (The Delinquents have been through so much, they deserve all the love in the world). There isn't any canon evidence that Bryan and Nathan aren't homoromantic/homosexual, but I imagine there could be plenty of platonic love and care toward Harper. So, Harper and Monty's babies get three daddies. Natalie and Bryna are obviously named for Miller and Bryan, and Thomas is just a random choice for the name of Monty's father.


End file.
